


Knights of Mandalore

by autisticdindjarin



Series: Star Wars: Knights of Mandalore [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game), The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Autistic Din Djarin, Bisexual Din Djarin, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I mean slow, Jedi Culture & Tradition (Star Wars), Jedi Training (Star Wars), Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Togruta OC, past mentions of Jedi Knight/Lemda Avesta, past mentions of Jedi Knight/Theron Shan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28377336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autisticdindjarin/pseuds/autisticdindjarin
Summary: The Hero of Tython was never found after her capture at the hands of the Eternal Empire. Millennia passed before she was found by a youngling in need of training and a Mandalorian.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), Female Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython/Din Djarin, Female Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython/The Mandalorian
Series: Star Wars: Knights of Mandalore [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078361
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	1. The Past

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! So this is hopefully going to be a regularly updated fic, I'm really going to try and stick with it. You can follow me over @autisticdindjarin on tumblr as well!

A silence settled across the rocky planes of the inner mind of Tacee de’Val. Time passed as if she were submerged beneath the surface of it. Grasping. Drowning. Ripples moved out in waves of awareness, with the helplessness of not being able to act.

At first, it had been watching the Republic and the Empire fall under the control of the Zakuulan prince. As Prince Arcann had disarmed her and had frozen her in carbonite after his coup, his plans had already been taking root.

Secondly, there had been a war, a bloody war, after an alliance had been formed under the rule of the Empire’s Wrath- a war hero covered in blood but no regrets. 

Tacee had company every so often as Arcann and his sister Vaylin would come, glancing at her carbonite shell with a gleam in their eyes. She could sense the fear in both of them as they wondered whether their father was truly gone for good, forever encased in the carbonite prison Tacee shared with him.

He wasn’t.

The downfall of the Zakuulan monarchy and the Eternal Empire came with the death of too many, and yet freedom for the galaxy. Arcann and Vaylin had died. As for the alliance, it was a high price. That price fed on Tacee’s guilt. If she’d been there, would she have made a difference? If they had found her, could she have saved them?

Instead, she was a trapped bystander.

She remained locked in Arcann’s trophy room, forgotten after Zakuul’s downfall, gathering dust and memories and pain and becoming more and more aware of a sinister presence that lingered within her. The citizens of Zakuul moved on from the Spire- Zakuul City- after the damage caused in the war by their own fleet, and settled elsewhere on the planet. And she was alone. Except for the ghost inside her head.

While her tomb was outwardly quiet, she could not silence the voice in her mind. It was the only company she had other than the other carbonite slabs surrounding her, breaking down over the years.

The voice became stronger as time passed in its stream, first whispers, then mutters, speaking ... screams. 

She wanted to claw at her skull. She wanted him out. She wanted to be free. But Vitiate … Valkorian … was persistent in her torture.

She watched her friends die, Some horribly, some from old age, but it hurt all the same. Years, decades, centuries,  _ millenia _ floating in this warped nightmare. And everytime something terrible happened, Valkorian made sure she saw it.

* * *

There was so much blood, so much destruction, so much hopelessness.

A near thousand years of infighting between Sith factions. Civil war on too many planets. The Republic committing its own atrocities, nearly exterminating an entire species. The war between a brotherhood and an army and a thought bomb that killed both sides in a devastating blow. Two rules.

But there stood good as well.

When Valkorian’s presence thinned and she reached out to see the galaxy for herself, there was not much she  _ could  _ see, but what she  _ did  _ see gave her some small hope.

Children, families of killed Jedi establishing their own Force traditions, from Ossus to Jedha. A medical revolution that would have had Doc on a month long tangent. The presence of the Jedi growing strong in the Republic once again, reforming from what the Eternal Empire had broken. She could imagine Kira’s smile, and Scourge’s slight disdain.

The flow of time was changing, as if she were being further submerged in its depths, drifting helplessly toward the bottom. It still came in starts and fits, but it was unpredictable. It became harder to reach out, and less and less visions came, even from Valkorian. But she saw.

A young woman sold into slavery. The birth of a chosen one. The creation of a clone army full of troopers that even Rusk would approve of, and the separating of the Republic. A revolt against a pacifist leader, with death watching, and a shadow collecting. A padawan lost.

Then, pain. A louder call through the Force than Tacee had experienced in a millenia during her time in her carbonite tomb.

The deaths of nearly all of her fellow Jedi, calling out in the Force and driving her to near madness with the loss of each as silence fell over the galaxy. The night of a thousand tears. A Republic transitioned into an Empire under the rule of a Sith Lord. The death of a star.

But, with each darkness came a light that it was cast from, though the flame may have been small.

The birth of new hope. The organization of an alliance of rebels. Two droids, one reminiscent of Teeseven, who always seemed to be in the center of it all, pushing on fate in small yet critical ways.

While the screams in the Force became louder, it was harder to find optimism. A familiar planet was obliterated not long after as voices cried out in the Force, terror-filled. Tacee had not witnessed such a loss of life since Ziost, and even in her dreams, she shuddered, and withdrew.

* * *

When she came back, not as much time had passed as she’d expected, but a lot had occurred between the broken pieces. A change in the darkness. A fulfilled prophecy. And a New Republic birthed from the ashes.

She wished she could reach out. Valkorian often blocked her efforts. She was trapped, and so was he, but Valkorian was crafty, a patient man, and she sensed he waited for the opportune moment, so he could once again continue in his efforts of engulfing her entire universe.    
She hated him, a hate and disdain that coiled deep in her chest. But he kept them alive. The carbonite helped, certainly, yet a Force shield surrounded her as well, keeping her in stasis, a passive observer, unable to interact or help.    
It was a nightmare.

* * *

Sometimes it would seem like day after day passed. Then she would spurt forwards, her awareness moved to the next century with such a suddenness it gave her whiplash. There were … a lot of holes. Not just in her observation of the galaxy, but in her own mind. Things were becoming fuzzy. She was losing her grip on who she was, and something dark stirred in her chest, trying to take her place.

But there were times when the darkness would retreat, and she could just simply  _ be _ . Those times were rare. She treasured them.

But when she startled back to awareness this time, it felt more like chaos than peace.

  
  



	2. I Answered

_ “Grogu. _ ” The name echoed through Tacee’s mind. She jolted from her slumber. It took her a few moments, but she focused in on the Force signatures she felt. 

_ “Tython. This is Tython,”  _ she thought.

A strange monument she didn’t recognize surrounded her. Standing stones swirled in her moment of vertigo. She noted the bare, hilly landscape. It looked nothing like the planet she remembered.

Her attention moved on to the bright beacon in the Force. Force shields surrounded a tiny, strange little creature propped atop the central stone. Its eyes had squeezed shut in concentration, and Tacee could feel it sending her impressions through the Force link that had been made through the galaxy.

Flashes came through her, much like the glimpses of the universe she was accustomed to, but these focused on a smaller expanse of time.  _ A Jedi Temple. Helmeted troopers. Fire and smoke. Darkness. Pain. And a Mandalorian. Light again. _

As Tacee absorbed the information, her senses became aware of the second Force signature within the embrace of the standing stones. Then, awareness came of the turmoil surrounding their hilltop sanctuary. Blaster bolts could be heard downhill, and the danger was palpable.

_ “Grogu. Grogu, stop. You’re in danger. Grogu,”  _ she told the youngling, but the communication only went one way. Grinding her teeth in frustration, her eyes landed on the second being she had noticed. He’d been knocked out, by the looks of it, but she pushed anyway.

_ “Wake up. Wake up,”  _ she prodded at his mind. Her teeth clenched in frustration. Telepathy remained difficult for her. But she did what she could. 

She drew on the imminent danger to the child, hoping that desperation could catapult her through to the Mandalorian, like a psychic adrenaline rush.

_ “Beskar,”  _ she cursed inwardly. Her eyes roved over the Mandalorian metal. Inside was the same man she’d seen in those glimpses from Grogu. But  _ beskar  _ resisted the Force.

She drove forwards anyway.

“ _ WAKE UP!” _

A sense of confusion that wasn’t her own fell over Tacee. Her heart leapt, and a different dreamscape surrounded her. The green cast light bathed her feet a sickening color. She didn’t realize she could actually enter someone else’s mind like this.

She suspected the Mandalorian would have a hell of a headache after this venture.

A figure- covered head to toe in unpainted  _ beskar- _ appeared before her. Blaster raised, helmet tilted to the side, stance defensive. She wouldn’t expect any less from a Mandalorian. 

She felt something pushing at her, trying to suck her away. She resisted.

“You need to wake up, Mandalorian. The youngling is in danger.” Her voice echoed as if they were in a corridor, not the expanded and open space of his mind. Flecks of light danced around both of them.

“Who are you?” came the voice, modulated. Tacee laughed. How was she supposed to know that?

“It doesn’t matter. Listen to me, you can’t get through that Force field.”

“I know. I didn’t, I-” he frowned at her, tilting to the side once more. “How did you ....? The kid is  _ gone _ .” His tone ached, and so did she.

Tacee frowned and tried to sense her surroundings once more. They … they weren’t in the same place. Time flowed forward in a surreal way within the mindscape. Unpredictable. 

They were on a ship. She could see impressions of crew quarters, a cramped space. That meant she was too late.

“I thought- I saw you, the youngling, on Tython,” she breathed out. 

“That was hours ago,” came the gruff explanation. Tacee hesitated, trying to reach out and sense the youngling - Grogu - again. Nothing. Her chest tightened.

“Who are you? Where are we?” the Mandalorian asked again, stepping closer this time. His blaster still focused on her.

“I’m - We’re in your mind, Mandalorian. The youngling called out, and I answered.”

“You’re a Jedi?” he asked, unfazed by the mindscape. She felt less than truthful when she answered.

“Yes,” she breathed. 

“Can you help me get him back?” His blaster lowered to an angle, and he shifted his weight.

“Yes. No. No, I’m trapped, you have to come get me out of here first. Then … then I can help you.”

“Where are you?” his question came. Muffled. It sounded like he was speaking through water. 

Their position lurched. The ship entered hyperspace, and their connection was snapping away as the conversation moved further from Tython. Sweat beaded on her forehead, even here.

She didn’t know the coordinates, but she pushed her sense of space into his mind, and the Mandalorian grunted at the sensation, the dreamscape around them quaking. She knew exactly where she was, but there was no time for anything more.

“Zakuul,” Tacee whispered before the connection ripped away. That would have to be enough.

* * *

Din’s hands came to his pounding head when he snapped up from … whatever the hell that was. His hands shook. Standing from his bunk - he hadn’t bothered taking his armor off, he wasn’t that trusting of his two former enemies just yet - he walked towards the cramped cockpit.

“We need to go to Zakuul,” he said, fumbling over the name. Boba grunted and shifted in the pilot’s seat, while Fennec sat to the side, cleaning her blaster rifle.

“Never heard of it,” Boba said. Din helped himself to the seat beside him. He pointed to the navigation charts, leaning forward.

“Here,” he let out a breath. He didn’t think it had all been a dream, but his chest tightened. What if he was just wasting time here, when he could be going after the kid, making a solid plan, not relying on some unknown ally? He could just forget this, find out another way.

But something told him this was right.

“Alright. Why?” Boba asked, peering over at him, helmet off and expression bemused. Din sighed.

“I … had a talk. With a Jedi.”

“ _ You’ve  _ got a Jedi friend?” Fennec chimed in. Din shook his head.

“No, it’s not - The Seeing Stone, it was a beacon. She answered. The Jedi,” he clarified. Boba snorted, looking the galaxy map over. He pointed towards the small yellow dot indicating Zakuul and tapped it twice, zooming in.

“This is out in Wild Space. You sure about this? It’ll be a long trip.”

No, no, he wasn’t sure about this. But right now, his gut was telling him something, and it had gotten him through this far.

“Yeah. She can help.”

Boba nodded and slipped the ship out of hyperspace. He keyed in the coordinates Din had indicated. Fennec continued with her blaster rifle maintenance, unbothered by their change of plans. Soon they were back in hyperspace, heading towards an unfamiliar planet containing an unfamiliar Jedi.

“Well, if she really is a Jedi, she’ll have the Moff pissing his pants when we find him,” Boba chuckled. Mando sighed.

It reminded him he needed to locate Gideon, Jedi or no. He needed to talk to Cara about a certain ex-Imperial.


	3. I Know Some Things

Din sighed and leaned back in the passenger seat of the Slave I. They’d been in hyperspace for days now. He couldn’t get the image out of his head of the Togrutan Jedi. He didn’t even  _ ask her name _ , and now it bothered him. He could look her up on the HoloNet if he’d known. Still, her face was fresh in his memory. Was that a side effect of having someone walk around in your mind? 

His headache had eased off eventually- it hit him hard the day after talking with her- but a throbbing lingered at his temples.

Boba leaned back in the pilot’s seat, legs spread and posture lazy, and Fennec remained in the hull doing stars knew what. And Din was a jittery mess in comparison. Worry flashed from the Jedi to Grogu and back again. Most of it was for Grogu. 

_ What if this didn’t work? What if he never saw him again? What if he was- _

“Stop it,” Boba commanded into the silence. Din startled, thinking the other man had dozed off. He hesitated. Had he … done something?

“... Stop what?”

“Thinking out loud. I’m trying to relax, and you make it impossible.”

Din looked over and tilted his helmet. He replayed the last few moments. Kriff, was he talking out loud? 

Boba grumbled. 

“Worrying about it does nothing but make you feel like bantha shit, trust me. We’ll get there, we’ll get the Jedi, and we’ll get your son back. Like I said, I’m with you. And if two assholes in  _ beskar  _ and a sniper in cybernetics can’t get it done, well,  _ who can _ ?”

Din sighed and looked back out the view port. His shoulders slumped. Why was this so hard? Grogu had recently been his only company, and before that, well, there was a reason he worked alone. His words were hard to say. When he did say them, it never came out right. It never  _ played _ out right. 

He felt Boba’s eyes on him. He didn’t expect the hand when it squeezed his shoulder, and he tensed.

But he didn’t pull away.

“The Jedi … what do you know about them?” Din asked. The hand moved back and Boba chuckled.

“Self-righteous is the first thing that comes to mind. But I’ve had some … dealings with them in the past.”

Evasive. Din knew the feeling.

“What kind of dealings?”

Boba gave out a bitter laugh.

“Nothing good. First time I saw one, I didn’t like him. Acted like my father was beneath him. A different Jedi led to his death.”

It was quiet- unsettling- as Din struggled with how to answer that. 

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Why? You didn’t know him,” Boba shrugged. Din shook his head.

“No, but I know you.” The simplest answer he could give. Boba’s gaze shot back over to him, and Din met it this time. It was uncomfortable. Boba’s brow furrowed and he gripped the arms of his pilot’s seat. He was looking for something, but Din’s helmet didn’t give much away. A saving grace.

Boba relaxed after a few seconds and leaned back again, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

_ I wish I could do that. _

“We’ve known each other what, a week now? You just  _ love  _ making friends wherever you go, huh?”

Din paused.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know, that shock trooper you told me about, the nice lady Jedi, Fennec, the Marshal ….” Boba shook his head.

“Are we … friends?” Din frowned.

Boba laughed, and Din shrunk back. Tightness gripped at his chest.

“No offense, Mando, but it seems to me like you’re a lonely man. That’s alright. I’ve been there myself. But a Mandalorian alone is a sad thing.”

Din huffed.

“I don’t need your pity, Fett.”

“Well, that’s good, because you don’t have it,” he answered Din straight. 

Din didn’t know how to answer that. He felt foolish. Why did he even care what Boba thought?

Boba sighed and tapped his fingers. He looked over at Din again. Din’s question still hadn’t been answered, but it felt wrong for Din to press.

“Listen. Jedi take care of their own a lot like the Mandalorians do, just less … cozy. Less familiar. So you don’t have to worry about your son being with them when he gets there. The old Jedi Order I knew, anyway. They had plenty of faults otherwise, otherwise the Purge wouldn’t have happened like it did. Many of them were …  _ be’ori'jagyc. _ ”  _ Bullies - picked on someone smaller. _

“You speak Mando’a.” Din sat up straight. Mando’a wasn’t common at all throughout the galaxy. It had been a long time.

“Not really,” Boba frowned. “Just the best word for them.”

A long silence pressed against them after that, with Din restless, and Boba lost in thought. The other man’s lips set into a thin line. Din had to say something. Something to change around the awkward questions, get off the subject a little.

“The Jedi. Are they all Togruta?” Din spoke. Boba blinked and looked over at him.

“No. Why?”

“The ones I’ve met, they both- They were Togruta.” Din stumbled.

“Your son isn’t,” Boba replied.

“I … don’t know. I thought maybe they ... looked different, younger?” Well, that sounded idiotic as soon as he said it out loud. Frustration boiled in him. But Boba laughed- not unkindly.

“You really don’t know anything about anything, do you? Stars, how’s a bounty hunter survive, being so oblivious?”

“I know some things,” Din protested. Boba’s shoulders shook with more laughter. Din tensed. He wasn’t some rookie to be overpassed here. He  _ did  _ know things. A lot of things. Boba wasn’t  _ that _ much older than him.

“Jedi Purge wasn’t that long ago, friend. They used to be all over the HoloNet. Heroes of the galaxy, all that bantha shit.”

“My … village was small. We didn’t really connect with the Core. We kept to ourselves. It was a way of life there.”

“Hmph. You’ve kept your eyes to the ground ever since, though. That covert of yours, real isolated?”

“Yeah,” Din sighed. He hadn’t had a conversation where he’d talked so much in a long time. It drained him. Since when did he start talking about his past so freely? This felt wrong, uncomfortable. Yet needed. He opened his mouth to say more, but Boba beat him.

“You need to take a nap, Mando. Worrying doesn’t make the ship go faster. Grab a ration bar on your way down.”

He snapped his mouth shut. Din could agree to that, though he didn’t know if he’d achieve sleep. Rest would have to do. He … liked talking to Boba. Or listening to Boba talk. That would be fine. Just enough so Din didn’t keep stuttering around.

“You’ll tell me when we get there?”

“I’ll wake you when we get there,” Boba affirmed with a nod of his head. “Take it easy. And use the fresher, for me and Fennec’s sake. There’s some razors stashed somewhere. Clean yourself up.”

The thought didn’t come to Din until he laid down on the small bunk.  _ He called me friend. _

* * *

Din rolled over on the bunk. It’d been an hour, and instead of resting, he worried. Hurt. A flash of the Razor Crest in his mind, and that took his breath. He pushed it away. He couldn’t.  _ He couldn’t.  _ Emotions couldn’t overtake him here.

His focus had to be on the kid.

But that hurt too. He’d thought and planned and strategized what he could. What else was there to do? 

He tossed around again, sock-clad feet curled into the blankets Boba had provided.

The Jedi he’d seen. That could be something to think more about, without so much danger of losing it.

When he’d first drawn that blaster on her, she’d been unexpected. Taller than him, with montrals added on to that height. She was well-muscled. He’d be curious to see her fight. Or whether he could hold his own against her. He liked testing himself. Learning.

She looked tired, though.

Her voice had been strained, hoarse, like she wasn’t used to using it. While she’d been cast in sickly green light in his mind, he could tell that her skin was a deep purple, montrals red or perhaps orange.

He hadn’t seen many Togruta during his time, but at least a couple dozen. None of them had similar coloring that he remembered, or her unique pattern. Maybe she was from a different part of Shili- one with Togruta less keen on traveling the stars.

How had she reached out to him like that? He wasn’t a Jedi. He’d never felt anything like it. It was invasive. He’d fought against it before knowing what he was doing, feeling the pressure against him like a knife sliding into his skull. Could she do that when he was awake? What other things could a Jedi do? Could she make him … do things?

Discomfort settled over him. Perhaps this wasn’t the best subject change.

He still felt her directions, her sense of space, in his mind. It was strange. Whenever he focused on it, it felt like floating in that mindscape again. 

Why was she trapped?

Was someone holding her hostage? Could it be the Empire? That would be a very unfortunate surprise. Had he thought this through enough? What was formidable enough to trap a Jedi? He’d seen how Ahsoka had fought on Corvus, the powers she possessed. 

What had he signed up for here?

_ ‘No use worrying about it.’  _ Boba’s words echoed. Din agreed. He’d given his word to the Jedi- or at least highly implied it- which was as good as. And finding the Jedi was his mission.

He just hoped they weren’t too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! More things from Din's side of things this chapter, and some Boba-bonding. Din may have a crush. We'll hopefully see Fennec bonding soon. Hoping I got Boba's personality down, though. He's struggling too but he's just better at hiding it.


End file.
